Aftermath
by Dakota-Jones
Summary: Chas had a family, of course, though John had never made an attempt to get to know them. But after Chas’s death, secrets are revealed that may force John to get to know them better than he’d ever wanted…
1. Chapter 1

Title: Aftermath (Part One)  
Author: fatedtoflames (DJ)  
Pairing: John Constantine/Chas  
Rating: Strong PG-13, may go up later  
Spoilers Movie: Lots.  
Summary: Chas had a family, of course, though John had never made an attempt to get to know them. But after Chas's death, secrets are revealed that may force John to get to know them better than he'd ever wanted…and force him to protect them from forces beyond their control.  
X-Posted to three Constantine communities(total) and my private LJ.

* * *

John Constantine had only met Chas's mother once before, and he didn't want to ever have to again. The woman was so sweet, so nice, that it actually caused him physical pain to speak with her.

After all, in her eyes he was sure he'd corrupted her son.

Now he sat down the row from her, in the pew of a run-down Catholic church where the upholstery on the seats smelled like fruit loops and puke, a church that was hardly fit for the funeral of a boy like Chas.

The coffin was open, but John refused to look. It was just a body, a shell in there, holding none of the former light and life that the young man once had. The light that John had taken away from him by letting him help.

He heard a choked sob from down the pew, and he glanced down to where Chas's mother, Diana, and his 14-year-old little sister Jodey sat. Diana was sobbing, trying to hold in the tears but failing miserably. Her hand was intertwined with Jodey's, who sat staring straight ahead, jaw clenched and expression blank. Jodey hardly looked like she belonged in the family; might've been a step-child or adopted or something. She was close to what John considered dangerously skinny, with flaming red hair and freckles splayed across all her features. Her eyes were an intense reddish-brown, almost the color of rust. Chas had many times come to work with a scar as testament to his younger sister's temper, but he never spoke badly about her just the same. He always blamed it on her medication. Diana, on the other hand, was a petite woman with kind, soft features, wavy brown hair and dark brown eyes. Right now, though, her eyes were red and she looked anything but kind; she looked _devastated_.

The gathering was small, but that was understandable. Chas's only family was Diana and Jodey, and he didn't have very many friends to speak of.

_You shouldn't have come_, John thought, shaking his head and tearing his eyes away from the distraught family. _They want closure, and you could give it to them…if only the rules allowed for it_.

To the family, Chas had died in a car crash. John's contacts and Angela's police friends had made sure of that. They couldn't well put under cause of death "thrown into the ceiling repeatedly by an arch-angel gone bad after a botched exorcism".

Diana sobbed again. John's fists clenched.

Chas loved his mother. She was the reason he got into all this stuff about angels and demons; she had gotten possessed when he was seven, and from the moment John walked through the front door, that kid was looking over his shoulder, asking question after question. Soon after that, the kid was showing up on his front door, books in hand, anxious to ask John to clear up a certain passage or help him translate some Latin.

John had tried the bad-ass act a million times. Like a naïve puppy, it had no effect on Chas. In fact, it seemed to make the boy idolize him even more.

So now, sitting there listening to Chas's mother sob, John couldn't help but feel like this whole thing was his fault.

The priest was going on and on, droning about Chas's life, about graduating valedictorian, about his devotion to his family, about his help with the church library and research, and John drowned it out. He knew all this. He knew everything about that kid, much more than even Chas's mother knew about him.

He remembered the night Chas had told him that he was putting off college for a couple years, instead buying a cheap cab and running private tours of the city and doing odd transportation jobs, and working for John as well.

John was struck with sudden guilt. All he'd done was give the kid a pay raise. He could've put the kid through college himself, easy, especially with all the scholarships Chas would get, his grades being what they were in high school.

He'd never offered. He'd let that kid work his ass off for everybody, everybody but himself. And Chas never once complained unless he was wanting to do _more_.

_No wonder people call you an arrogant bastard. They probably looked at that kid and knew it right away, that you were a selfish, arrogant bastard._

The priest had finally stopped talking, and people were filing past the coffin to give their last respects. Most were crying.

John silently joined the line, keeping his eyes on the floor as it inched forward. Most of these people probably had no idea how he knew Chas, but the kid didn't exactly broadcast who his employer was. May as well hold up a neon sign that said 'Kill me and hang my head on John's door'.

Smart kid. Always had been.

John got to the front, pulling Hennessey's amulet out of his pocket and setting it in the coffin next to Chas's body. Burying his guilt all at once, so he saw it.

_Hope you ended up in Heaven, kid, cause you sure as hell deserve it_, he thought as he walked on by, toward the doors. He stopped at the doorway and looked back as Diana and Jodey approached the coffin.

Diana gripped the side of the coffin hesitantly, tears flowing freely down her face. She leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her son's forehead, and then reached up and gently brushed his hair back from his face, mouthing words that John couldn't quite make out. She fingered the chocolate-brown curls for a few moments, and then she stepped back and nodded.

They began to close the casket, and she and Jodey headed down the aisle toward John.

_Stay, say something, anything_, John thought frantically as the pair approached him.

"Ms. Kramer," he said, reaching out and gently touching her arm. "I'm…very sorry. He was a good kid."

_That…was pitiful. May as well tell her outright that it was your fault._

Diana studied him for a few moments, shaking her head, looking almost…angry.

"Don't you _dare_ come near me or my daughter again," she finally hissed, and then she stormed away. John blinked a few times in surprise, watching them go but unable to make his feet move.

_She didn't mean it. She's just upset. She just needs time_, he thought, unsure of what to do now. He'd meant to come here, pay his respects and make amends with Chas's family, but what else could he have said? 'Ms. Kramer, I'm so sorry that I got your son killed. If it makes you feel any better, I think I was in love with the kid. Maybe. Or maybe I just needed to get laid and he was so damn tempting.'

Lucky for him, he'd never followed through on said feelings. After all, he wanted Chas to go to Heaven, not go to Hell for being involved with him. Talk about silent torture.

"Hey, man, move it!"

John stepped out of the way of the pallbearers as they carried the coffin past, and he instinctively reached for a cigarette, finding only gum. That would have to do; he popped a piece of it in his mouth and chewed fiercely.

He went home. It was the only place he wanted to be right now anyway.

**Two weeks later, after the cemetery encounter **

_Whiskey is man's best friend. Not dogs. Whiskey._

That was the main thought John was having when there was a knock at the door. He sighed heavily and forced his feet to move, cursing whoever was at the door. They could've waited until he'd at least finished his first glass.

He opened the door a crack, and his first thought was Beeman.

But no; it was just a different bug-eyed tired looking man. His suit was neatly pressed, and he pushed his glasses up on his nose, studying John with disdain.

"John Constantine?"

"What do you want?"

The man sneered. "I'm Davin Thurston. I represent the Kramer family."

John snorted. "What, are they suing me now?"

Thurston looked down, and John followed his gaze to a large cardboard box on the ground in front of his door.

"Chas Kramer had a note taped to this box that said if anything were to happen to him, you were to be given the contents immediately. It hasn't been opened."

John stared down at the box for a few moments, and then he looked back up at Thurston. "Is that all?" He asked, trying to sound bored with the whole thing. Thurston held out an envelope to him.

"The note. I assumed you'd want that as well. Have a good evening, Mr. Constantine."

John watched him turn and leave, and then he opened the door the rest of the way and picked up the box. He almost fell on his face trying to pick it up; it was a whole lot heavier than it looked.

He struggled to pick it up, and then he dropped it on the table, the whole table creaking with the impact. He stared at it for a few moments, and then dropped the envelope on top of it, kicked the door closed, and finished his glass of whiskey.

_I'll open it in the morning. Probably returning all those books he's borrowed from me._


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Aftermath (Part Two)  
Author: fatedtoflames (DJ)  
Pairing: John Constantine/Chas  
Rating: Strong PG-13, may go up later  
Spoilers Movie: Lots.  
Summary: Chas had a family, of course, though John had never made an attempt to get to know them. But after Chas's death, secrets are revealed that may force John to get to know them better than he'd ever wanted…and force him to protect them from forces beyond their control.  
X-Posted to three Constantine communities(total) and my private LJ.

* * *

The next morning, John awoke to a very odd sound.

_Squeaky squeaky squeaky squeaky_

He slowly sat up in bed, looking around. The squeaking sound continued like a violin bow being scraped across dry strings over and over, chipping away at John's hangover.

_Squeaky squeaky squeaky………squeaky………squeaky squeaky_

Whatever it was, it was most definitely going to get shot. John grabbed his handgun from the nightstand and stood up, following the sound to the kitchen. The sound stopped for a few moments, then started up again, and John's eyes landed on the box on his kitchen table.

"Damnit, Chas, only you would give me a possessed cardboard box," he muttered, putting the gun down beside the box and looking it over. The squeaking sound continued, pausing every few moments. The harsh sound was _really_ getting on his nerves now.

He tossed the envelope aside and grabbed onto the lid, prepared himself to come face-to-face with a trapped demon, and opened the box to be looking right at…

…a brown, fuzzy hamster sitting in the exercise wheel in its cage.

John stared.

The hamster stared.

John put the lid back on the box.

He headed to the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, taking a long swig of it before turning and walking back to the box and pulling the lid off again.

Hamster still there, up on its hind legs, its whiskers twitching.

This time John decided not to account it to a hallucination. He grabbed the edge of the cage (which was surrounded by books packed tightly in the box with it), and he lifted it out, setting it on his kitchen counter.

It was a small cage, but the hamster had obviously well-taken care of up until Chas died. Food was literally stockpiled on a container on the side of the cage, constantly feeding in to the hamster, though it was low now. Same with the water, barely any left, but there was a huge water bottle. The cage was deep, and at least six inches of bedding sat on the bottom.

It was as if Chas knew the hamster would take a while to get to John, and always had him packed for the long hiatus.

John caught sight of a piece of paper taped to the side of the cage and he tugged it off. He opened it up, and on the inside was a short note:

**John,**

**His name is Killer. You need to clean his cage once a week, refresh his water once a day, and refill the food every time it gets low. Have fun!**

**Chas**

_He gave me a hamster. Honest to God, the boy gave me a hamster,_ John thought, pinching his nose against the awful smell coming from the cage. It needed to be cleaned.

He sighed and turned back to the box, where he found dozens of books, a bag of bedding, and a bag of hamster food. He sighed and set about cleaning out the hamster's cage so he could at least get rid of the God-awful smell…

…but halfway through cleaning it, he got a surprise.

He dumped the old bedding out of the cage into a trash bag, and when he did, he heard a huge _clunk_. He looked down into the trash bag, and sitting in the middle of the bedding was a large cross.

No wonder the cage had so much bedding in it; there had to be enough to hide the cross.

_But hide it from what? _John asked himself, studying the cross carefully. It was heavy, maybe iron, but there was no way of telling without having someone take a look at it for him.

He set it aside and finished cleaning the cage, setting it all up on a stool in the corner of the room. In other words, as far away from him as he could get it.

"I'll deal with _you_ later," he said, pointing an accusing finger at the hamster. Killer just sniffed the air and began drinking his now-fresh water.

John moved to the box and began pulling out and stacking up the books, seeing some titles that were even unfamiliar to him. There had to be at least thirty books in this box. Then, about halfway through, he accidentally dropped one.

The book hit the floor with a hollow thud, and John raised an eyebrow. Books didn't make hollow 'thuds'. He picked up the book and opened up the cover, only to find that it snapped open to reveal a hidden compartment in the book.

Inside the fake book was a videotape.

John set that aside and quickly reached for another book. Then another.

All of the books were fake, and all of them contained a video that only had a date written on the label. The oldest one was two years old, the most recent was…

…the day before Chas died.

John took a deep breath and sat down, looking from the hamster to the cross to all the videotapes. Chas had planned all this out, as if he knew all along that he was going to die before his mentor.

He finally picked up the envelope that had come with the box. Of course Chas wouldn't have put anything specific in there, just in case someone else might read it, but maybe he left some kind of clue.

**John,**

**I guess if you've got this note I went and got myself killed, right? Hope I went out in style, fighting a demon or something. But yeah, anyway…**

**Here are all those books I borrowed. I tried to get my sister to read them, but she really didn't have any interest whatsoever in reading about angels and shit. Guess that's the way it goes with little sisters.**

**Thanks for everything. You really should skim over these books again, cause I think you forgot half the stuff in them.**

John's hands tightened on the paper. The clues were right there, so obvious.

John needed to watch those videos and talk to Jodey Kramer.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Aftermath (Part Three)  
Author: fatedtoflames (DJ)  
Pairing: John Constantine/Chas  
Rating: Strong PG-13, may go up later  
Spoilers Movie: Lots.  
Summary: Chas had a family, of course, though John had never made an attempt to get to know them. But after Chas's death, secrets are revealed that may force John to get to know them better than he'd ever wanted…and force him to protect them from forces beyond their control.  
X-Posted to three Constantine communities(total) and my private LJ.

* * *

A half hour later John was sitting in the home of Father Lawrence, an acquaintance of his from the church. John didn't have a TV or VCR at his home, so he'd gone to the closest place he could think of that did, carrying the box full of videotapes.

He eventually convinced Father Lawrence to let him use the TV (a feat in itself, considering the last electrical appliance he borrowed from this man ended up in five thousand pieces in some homeless man's shoes, don't ask), and he settled down to watch the tapes.

He grabbed the oldest tape and popped it in the VCR, pushing random buttons until the tape played. Static at first, then…a birthday party?

John narrowed his eyes, feeling Father Lawrence's eyes on the TV as well from over his shoulder. It was most definitely a tape from a birthday party. Chas's, now that the name on the cake came into focus. His fifteenth birthday party.

_He wouldn't have given you these tapes unless there was something on them you needed to see_, John thought, watching as Chas gave the camera a grin and blew out the candles. Then, the camera panned upward, and John practically leapt back from the TV as it focused in, and Father Lawrence gasped and crossed himself.

A half breed. A hideous, malformed half breed with scraggly strands of red hair. But the image was flickering, changing, morphing between human and half breed.

Flickering between Jodey Kramer and a creature purely born of Hell.

Nobody being videotaped noticed this; everything went on as usual fro a birthday party, as far as John could tell. Not even Chas seemed to notice anything out of the norm. John began to fast-forward, and it was the same through the whole tape. Every time the camera panned across Jodey, she was flickering and melting between normal human and hideous, slimy hell-beat, not unlike Balthazar's true form.

Father Lawrence brought out some tea, seeing that this was going to be a long, harrowing process. John went through every tape, and about four tapes in it changed from family events to a set of hidden cameras Chas had set up in the house. Four rooms displayed on one screen.

Eventually John became used to seeing the strange form of half-breed, but he never became used to seeing the fits of temper see would throw, always aimed at Chas and not their mother. When Mom was around the girl was a perfect angel; but the second she left, Chas was getting everything from shoved into walls, cut with butcher's knife, and having boiling water thrown at him.

"He was trying to figure out what she is. He couldn't tell she was a half breed," John said, more to himself than to Father Lawrence. "And if he didn't succeed before she killed him, he wanted me to figure it out for him."

_God, Chas, why didn't you tell me you were living with a violent half-breed? I could've deported her, or…or something._

"John…I don't think she's a half breed," Father Lawrence said, and John looked up at him.

"What brings you to that conclusion, Father?"

"Well…half breeds can control their outer image, even on tape and in photographs, unless they're weakened by something. And I don't see her as being an influence peddler of any sort. She resorted to acts of violence instead of temptation."

"So…what is she then, some kind of demon?"

Father Lawrence paused and considered. "I think we're dealing with some kind of prolonged, incomplete possession."

"That's something for the movies."

"It's possible," Father Lawrence continued. "There was a documented case of a prolonged possession over 12 years in San Bernardino. Difference was, the victim was a priest, and that was why he could fend off the demon himself for so long."

"So…either this girl is a nun or the demon is having some personal problems. And I'm guessing it's the second one."

Father Lawrence chuckled and shrugged. "You'll have to be careful with this one, John. There's no precedence set on how to deal with prolonged possessions of this degree."

"Well, what happened to the priest in San Bernardino?"

"He stepped in front of a train. On purpose."

"…Oh."

John watched the rest of the tapes and grew more and more concerned; the acts of violence were getting worse, more violent and less predictable. He was shocked that Chas had never told him, and that he'd never noticed Chas's constant injuries.

There was something more to this that he wasn't seeing. The only way to find out what that was, though, was to see it for himself by going to talk to Jodey or by finding Chas.

"Father Lawrence…I need you to find Chas for me."

"I don't know, John, the balance doesn't allow for-"

"We're talking about a fourteen-year-old girl here, Father. Chas may have some information that isn't on these tapes that could save her. Find him for me."

Father Lawrence shifted uncomfortably. "If you really need me to, I'll see what I can do."

"Good. I'll talk to Jodey, you find Chas. We'll get these pieces put together one way or another."


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Aftermath (Part Four)  
Author: fatedtoflames (DJ)  
Pairing: John Constantine/Chas  
Rating: Strong PG-13, may go up later  
Spoilers Movie: Lots.  
Summary: Chas had a family, of course, though John had never made an attempt to get to know them. But after Chas's death, secrets are revealed that may force John to get to know them better than he'd ever wanted…and force him to protect them from forces beyond their control.  
X-Posted to three Constantine communities(total) and my private LJ.

* * *

By the time Constantine finished at Father Lawrence's home, it was just in time for the local middle school to be letting out class. He figured that would be the best place to talk to Jodey without Chas's mom going postal on him.

He took a cab to the school and stood outside, watching as the kids ran around like rabbits on drugs.

_Chas wasn't ever like this…was he?_ John thought, watching as a few boys stopped and dropped their backpacks to have a quick three-on-three at the basketball court. They would occasionally stop to catcall at passing girls, but it was mostly showing off.

_Geez, you're gonna look like some kind of pedophile standing here like this…but that's what you are, right? After all, the way you felt about Chas…that wasn't a fatherly feeling, by any means. He's only seventeen, and you…_

He was broken from his thoughts when he saw Jodey exit the school building, two of her friends flanking her like bodyguards. All three looked completely normal, including Jodey.

"Jodey!"

Jodey turned at the sound of her name, and she frowned as she caught sight of John. She waved goodbye to her friends, who giggled, stared, and gossiped as she ran over to Constantine.

"You're Chas's boss…right?" She asked warily.

"Yeah. I just wanted to ask you a couple questions."

Nothing. He was feeling nothing abnormal from her. From the outside, she seemed a completely normal teenage girl…and even with John's powers and abilities, nothing exuded a supernatural energy.

"Look, Mr. Constantine, I really don't think I should be talking to you," Jodey said, beginning to walk away. John caught up, falling into pace beside the girl.

"And that's exactly why I want to talk to you, kid…"

Jodey stopped and held up her hand, giving John a look that very much reminded him of Chas. "Mr. Constantine, maybe Chas let you kick him around and call him 'kid', but I have a name and I'd like you to use it."

John's eyebrows furrowed. "Kick him around? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, you think we didn't notice?" Jodey asked incredulously, rolling her eyes. "All the times he came home with bruises, cuts, and burns, and you think we wouldn't put two and two together?"

_The attacks from Jodey…she's letting it play off that I abused him, _John thought, barely concealing his anger. _Damn fuckin' demon hell creatures._

"Is _that_ what your mother thinks? That I hurt him? Is that why she's so upset?"

Jodey just nodded, not seeming to care.

"Is that what _you _think?"

Jodey shrugged. "I don't really care. He's dead. What difference does it make now?"

John's fists clenched tightly and he once again barely restrained giving her a good slap. _She's just fourteen, John, she doesn't know what she's saying, calm down…_

"It does…make…a difference," John said slowly, and Jodey laughed.

"I'm surprised he stuck around for you. You know what? He got accepted to UCLA for a free ride through college. And you know why he put it off? Because you'd told him you had cancer, and he was going to stick with you till the bitter end," Jodey said harshly, and then she laughed bitterly. "But looks like that was yet another _lie_ you told him. _That's_ why Mom is so upset…he stayed for you when he could've had so much more. He was always her favorite anyway, and boy, did you screw that up..."

She shook her head and walked away before John could respond; not that he could've formed a coherent sentence at the moment, anyway.

Chas had been accepted to one of the top colleges around. Free ride, full scholarship. And he'd put it off…to keep helping _him_. To keep being a slave to him, more like it. To keep driving him around. And where had it gotten him? Six feet under.

John took a deep, shaky breath, headed to the nearest convenience store, and then bought a pack of cigarettes and a cheap lighter. He stood outside the store, silent, smoking his first cigarette in two weeks.

"John!"

John ignored the voice calling his name, even though it seemed achingly familiar. He took a long drag off his cigarette, staring at the ground, thinking.

"Yo, Heaven to John…"

John finally looked up, and he blinked a few times.

"…Chas?"

Chas grinned, his wings fluttering. "You rang?"

John was so tempted to just pull Chas into the tightest hug of his life, hold him close, tell him how much he'd been missed…

"You didn't tell me about UCLA."

…Or just start a fight right off the bat.

Chas's face visibly fell, and his wings slowly faded. "You send a distraught priest after me because I put off college for a year? That's pretty fuckin' lame, John."

"You didn't tell me about the _scholarship_."

"Christ, John, is that all you wanted? Cause you know, I could've gotten this by runnin' back and sayin' hello to my mother-"

"Who happens to think I abused you, by the way."

Chas dropped his gaze to the ground. "It was either that or try to explain Jodey to her."

They fell silent for a few moments, the uncomfortable lapse in conversation giving John a chance to take another drag off his cigarette. Chas was right; there was no way he could explain off the abuse by saying Jodey did it. His mother would never believe him. He was forced to let her think what she wanted to.

"Is that all you wanted, John?" Chas asked quietly. "Cause I left you everything I know about it in that box. The tapes, and the cross."

"Where'd the cross come from?"

"I found it in her room."

Now, that didn't make any sense whatsoever. A demon, who happens to have a cross in her room? It was unheard of.

"You don't know anything else?" John asked, and Chas shook his head.

"I couldn't find anything in the literature about a case like that."

John nodded, and then turned to walk away. He was mad, so mad at Chas, mad at himself, mad at Jodey…mad at _everyone_.

"John…John, wait!" Chas called out. "Is that…is that it? Cause geez, John…I thought…"

John turned and looked at Chas. Those wide, dark hazel eyes looked at him pleadingly, and he swallowed hard. He wanted nothing more than to walk back and take Chas into his arms, touch that soft, curly hair, tell him everything that he'd been thinking, how much he'd missed him…but he couldn't. He'd already screwed so much up for this boy, ruined his life…

"Chas…go back to playing your harp. I'll take care of things here."

He could practically _feel_ the boy's disappointment and hurt, but this time, he didn't turn back.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Aftermath (Part Five)  
Author: fatedtoflames (DJ)  
Pairing: John Constantine/Chas  
Rating: Strong PG-13, may go up later  
Spoilers Movie: Lots.  
Summary: Chas had a family, of course, though John had never made an attempt to get to know them. But after Chas's death, secrets are revealed that may force John to get to know them better than he'd ever wanted…and force him to protect them from forces beyond their control.  
X-Posted to three Constantine communities(total) and my private LJ.

* * *

John was god damn frustrated.

He'd been in the church's library for seven hours, researching, trying to figure out what kind of demon he was dealing with. He'd asked around, looked at all the books under the sun, but all to no avail.

He needed Chas.

He cursed, shoving another book away and covering his face with his hands. The last thing he wanted to do was go crawling back to Chas, after what he'd said to him and the things that kid had done for him. It was as bad as John Constantine saying 'please'…which he never did.

But he didn't know a thing about this library- he'd been lucky to find the books he did find, and even then they weren't of any help. He could speak Latin easily, but a couple of these other ancient languages…the only person in a five hundred mile radius who spoke those were Chas, now that Beeman was dead. Beeman had only taught Chas, the boy was the only student who learned fast enough and worked hard enough for him to tolerate.

"God dammit…" He muttered, standing up and heading for the door. He had to find that angel, like it or not. But where would he go to look for an angel?

In twenty minutes he found himself standing in Midnite's club, trying to convince the man to use his numerous psychic gifts to call the angel to them. The smell of smoke made him yearn to pull out a cigarette, but he pushed aside the urge for now. Later he would indulge, but not in front of Midnite when he'd told the man he was most definitely quitting.

"Because you're a friend," Midnite finally said, slowly, his every word calculated. "I will tell you where he is. I cannot call to him, though…it's not within my right to call on an angel of God without very good reason."

John nodded, wanting to say something snarky about Midnite's right to ruin a perfectly good two hundred dollar shirt but holding the comment back. The man was helping him, after all.

Midnite closed his eyes, all the power and energy in the room seeming to focus, draining from the colors and lights like a dimming light bulb. After a few moments he let out a deep breath, and his eyes opened and focused once again. It was like a rubber band snapping back; John could practically feel the room regain energy as Midnite let go of using it.

"The cemetery," he said, his voice low. "His grave. The boy is upset, to say the least."

"Yeah…I know."

"Even after he dies you cannot give him the satisfaction of knowing how proud you are of him?"

"I don't need this lecture right now, Midnite…"

"Later then. Go do what you must."

John nodded, turning and walking out, feeling his heart sink at the thought of an angel at his own grave, distraught. He had no idea what he said would hurt the kid that badly, not now that he had Heaven.

The night air had cooled, and John shivered and pulled his coat tighter around himself before hailing a cab. Something made him nervous tonight, something akin to the feeling he got in the presence of a half-breed demon. But the driver was a normal driver, and the ride completely normal, though he felt a pang of longing at the missing scent of licorice in the cab. He hated licorice, always had, but every time he mentioned it to Chas the boy had thrown back the fact that he hated the smell of smoke.

Now he would give anything to have one wiff of the red candy, to see Chas in the front seat wearing that ridiculous cap and chewing thoughtfully on a strand of the licorice.

The cab pulled up at the gates to the cemetery, and John barely remembered to pay the driver as he got out. He took a deep breath and shivered again, wondering if Chas was dressed warmly enough for this weather.

_God, you're not his mother. Don't start with that._

The sun seemed to slip below the horizon right as he stepped through the gates, and he headed straight back on the familiar path to the boy's grave. After all, he'd been there a few times, even paid for Chas's headstone (though he made the man who made it swear to secrecy on who paid so Chas's family wouldn't know).

He saw a shadowy figure ahead, and he squinted, trying to see clearly who it was.

"Chas?"

In half a second red eyes turned on him and he had a demon leap at his chest, and he had to sidestep fast. The creature landed on all fours and spun around, more animal-like than human, and John suddenly caught sight of the white feathers stuck on the creature's claws.

"Damn _bitch_," he muttered, and the thing growled and leapt at him again, but it was knocked aside mid-jump by a sudden flash of light. It whimpered and scrambled for footing as the white light continued like a strobe, and even John had to close his eyes for a few moments, temporarily blinded by the intensity of the light.

"You've got a lot of fuckin' nerve, John, you know that, right?" He heard a familiar voice say as the light faded and the demon literally disintegrated where it stood. John opened his eyes to find Chas standing there, in white clothing, but still looking as warm as a sun-lit beach. He practically fucking _glowed,_ even as his wings folded and faded.

"You're here to ask for help, aren't you John?" Chas asked harshly, and John stuttered for a few moments.

"Look, Chas…I'm sorry about earlier, I was out of line…"

A snort. "I'll say."

"I was wrong, okay? I admit that. And…I need your help."

"You're fuckin' out of luck."

John blinked a few times. That was one thing he was not used to- being refused what he wanted. Usually in such a case the first thing he would do is pull out a weapon, but he had the feeling that wouldn't exactly help his case.

"But…we're talking about your sister here, Chas. Your sister."

"Oh, but the great John Constantine doesn't need my help. He can figure it out just fine _on his own_," Chas snapped.

"God, I said I was sorry, what more do you want, for me to get down on my knees and beg?"

Chas smirked and his eyes flashed gold. "Actually, that sounds about right."

John's face paled drastically, and he scowled. "You can't be fuckin' serious."

"No groveling, no help. That's the deal, take it or leave it, John."

John couldn't believe this. This was absolutely humiliating and Chas knew it.

But he needed Chas's help.

_Only for you_, he thought as he sank down to his knees with a sigh. He looked up at Chas, his expression a mixture of embarrassment, anger, and frustration.

"I'm sorry for what I said. I really need your help with this, Chas."

"And?"

"I'll…I'll do my best to not do it again."

Chas puffed up like a proud peacock. "The magic word?"

John gritted his teeth. "_Please_."

Chas smiled. "Of course I'll help you, John. Let's go catch ourselves a demon."

Chas started walking, every gesture and expression full of mischief. And as John stood up to follow, he smiled too.


End file.
